


Where the Skies Are Blue

by Vorta_Scholar



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Human Data (Star Trek), Post-Movie: Star Trek Nemesis (2002), Pre-Star Trek: Picard, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorta_Scholar/pseuds/Vorta_Scholar
Summary: Data is dead, and his consciousness is beginning to fade into nothing, when he's abruptly thrust back into the light. He meets Q in the afterlife. The only problem is, it's not Data who Q was expecting. Q tells Data that it isn't his time, and gives him a choice: let his story end with the explosion and his death, or continue living, this time as a human, and do the things he was supposed to have done in his first life.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

There was a flash, then nothing. No pain, not that he expected there to be any. No fear, either. He knew what lay beyond was nothing. He knew that what he was doing was good, and right, and that in the end, it would be best. He did not fear the nothing which was to come, and he did not fear it now as it enveloped him. He was, however, sad. Sad, mostly, because he knew this decision would lead to so much sadness. For Captain Picard, certainly. For Geordi. For Worf and Deanna and Commander Riker, and for everyone who had called him “friend” over the last few years of his life.

He did not expect to _perceive_ the nothing, however.

Surprise seeped in after a moment, and with it, the dark nothing began to fade into—well, still nothing, but a different nothing nevertheless. A lighter nothing. Then, before him stood...something. _Someone_.

“Q,” Data said, perplexed as he stared forward at the somber, robed figure before him.

“Data,” Q said, seeming astonished. “No. _No_. _Damn_.”

“I do not understand,” Data said, watching as Q stepped closer before circling him slowly, shaking his head.

“Data, Data, _Data_ ,” Q repeated. “It wasn’t supposed to be _you_.”

“That does not make this matter any clearer, I am afraid.”

Q chuckled, but it was not a happy chuckle. His face was stained with regret, his expression uncharacteristically sober and thoughtful.

“Data,” Q said. “It was not your time. It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

“I had to save Captain Picard,” Data said. “I could not just allow him to die.”

Q sighed. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Data, you had...so much more to do, to accomplish. I could show you if you like, but it really doesn’t matter now that you’ve done this. It isn’t going to happen now. There was so much more in store for you, Data. Picard had lived a life and a half. He was done. He’d fulfilled his purpose. Saved humanity and dozens of other races more times than one man ever should. One man doesn’t deserve as much glory as is now in store for him. Data, if you had stayed on the bridge, _if you had stayed on that damn ship_.”

“I gave my life willingly,” Data said.

“Yes,” Q said. “You did.”

“I do not regret my decision, if that is any consolation.”

“It isn’t,” Q said, almost sharply.

“Why are you upset by my decision?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“So you keep saying.”

“Because it is true!”

“I do not see why my life is more important than the captain’s. I was the second officer. I was an android, a machine. Compared to his life, mine was hardly—”

“Your life mattered so much,” Q said. “To so many people; not just to your friends and fellow crew members, but to people you would never even meet.”

Data shook his head. “I…”

“Jean-Luc is incredibly important, yes, and adored, and respected, and worthy of every honor humanity and the Federation would have wished to bestow upon him. He would be remembered and worshiped as a hero whether you saved him or not, Data. The _Enterprise_ would have gone on with or without him in command. In fact—” he cut himself off. “No, never mind.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter now. You are dead. Picard is alive. Life goes on.” He stopped his pacing, and laid a cold stare on Data. “ _For some_.”

As Q continued to pace across a stretch of the expanse, Data’s gaze followed him, watching him trudge to and fro for what seemed like an eternity and a single moment all at once.

“You aren’t done,” Q said finally, pausing but not looking up from the middle distance he had come to focus on. “That future is gone. Even I can’t get it back now without severely shredding existence as we know it. But maybe…”

“Maybe?” Data said, stepping closer, head tilted severely in an attempt to meet Q’s lowered gaze.

“Maybe I could still send you back,” Q said. “You aren’t yet needed in the afterlife, as much as I would enjoy the company.” He smiled, a sly but fond sort of grin, his eyes meeting Data’s. “You still have a few more things to do. And I believe I have just the thing which would allow you to return without making a fuss.”

“What is left for me to do?” Data asked. “I am dead. My death had meaning. My existence has ceased, has it not?”

“Well…” Q tilted his head slightly, and that one singular movement, in combination with his tone, said to Data that there was something which Q was not saying.

But there was always something which Q was not saying, in Data’s experience. He would have to let that go, as he always had to.

“What I mean, Q, is that I have achieved something which I had always hoped for. I did not wish for death. I was not...suicidal, or unhappy with life. But I did hope that my death would come one day and give me a finite existence, and it has. I do not have to live forever, or worry about outliving my friends.”

“If you do not wish to return,” Q said slowly, “I will not force the matter. But I had hoped…”

Q’s subtle manipulation and his cryptic way of speaking were beginning to get annoying.

“What is it that I was meant to have done?” Data asked, somewhat irritably.

Why could Q not just let him fade into the nothing in peace?

“Oh, now I can’t give away _all_ the secrets,” Q said, smirking. “But it’s good. Trust me on that.”

Data sighed, looking at a spot on what would have been the ground, if there had been anything there, that is.

“This,” he started, “ _alternate_ plan you have.”

“Mmhmm?” Q intoned, pausing, arms crossed, to look Data over appraisingly.

“It would not allow me to see my friends ever again.”

Q frowned. “I always forget what a quick thinker you are, Data,” he said. “No, I don’t suppose it would, but then, never say never.”

“My friends think that I am dead.”

“That they do.”

Data opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He could only imagine how his friends were taking it. When he had thought Spot dead, when he had thought something had happened to Geordi, when he had thought he might not get to Captain Picard in time, well, he had certainly gotten an idea of what it might be like to lose a loved one. Now, at the thought of knowing that he could go back, but never tell them the truth, that he could be alive and know that they too were all alive, but that he could never see them again seemed a great deal worse.

“If I go back, what of Captain Picard? You said that it was his time, not mine. You would not shorten his life to prolong mine, would you?”

“Your sacrifice meant something, Data. Even I would not be so cruel as to erase that,” Q said. “No, Jean-Luc will have a long, glorious life thanks to you.”

“I am glad,” Data said softly, displaying a small, sad sort of smile. “What would my return entail, might I ask?”

“You would be human,” Q said, bluntly, somberly. “With everything that entails, the good and the bad.”

“But—”

“No buts, Data,” Q interrupted. “You were as good as human already. Better, really. You made a noble effort all the time I knew you. And what you did for your captain, in my mind, makes you incredibly human. A mere machine never would have sacrificed itself so that a living being could live. A mere machine does not have friends, or play dress-up, or read books about ancient fictional detectives, or play the violin, or have a cat, or aspire to marry and reproduce, or any one of the various things you did. Data, you were already human. All along. You just didn’t realize it.”

“The tin man,” Data murmured.

Q’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The tin man,” Data said, lifting his chin slightly and tilting his head. “He was an ancient character of human folklore, I am told. He—”

“Fascinating,” Q said, disinterested, “I’m sure.”

Data closed his mouth, used to being cut off, but still not yet used to the sting.

“So you will make me human, and you will just…” He waved a hand flippantly. “Drop me off somewhere? Leave me to my own devices?”

“Essentially,” Q said. “That was my plan.”

“I don’t know,” Data said.

Q’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“I do not know,” Data said, slower, seemingly unaware of Q’s reason for asking him to repeat himself.

Q chuckled softly. “Alright. How about a trial period?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Q said. He snapped his fingers, and Data’s clothing changed. His Starfleet uniform was gone, and in its place was a lighter, looser, more neutrally colored outfit. “I would send you out for, say, ten days. Earth time, that is. Obviously. Just to see how you take to it. At the end of that period of time, you make your decision. Remain human and alive, or proceed to your own little slice of afterlife.”

Data looked at his new clothes, perplexed. He was just about to say something, when Q snapped his fingers again, and he was suddenly aware that he was wearing glasses.

“Q, I…”

“You don’t like the glasses,” Q said. “Got it.”

“No, it’s just—”

Before Data could even get out what he was going to say, Q snapped his fingers again, and the glasses were gone. Once more, and Data became aware that his hair felt different. Reaching up to touch it, he felt that it was no longer slicked down, but merely combed, if that. His hairline had receded slightly, too, and if he were one for vanity, he thought, perhaps he would have been offended. Right now he was merely numb, in a state of shock and confusion. He lowered his hand slowly and looked at it. It still looked the same.

So Q had not changed everything yet.

“You’re going to need a name,” Q said. “Data won’t do for a human. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“Q…”

Q snapped again, and Data’s pocket felt heavier. Inside it, he found a wallet, which, when opened, was found to contain an identification card with the new name Q had invented for him.

“Altan Inigo Soong... _A.I. Soong_?" Data said skeptically. “Are you sure that is not—”

"It's clever, right?" Q said, grinning wide, quite proud of himself for thinking of that so quickly.

“I do not…”

“Data, I’m giving you plenty of time to stop me,” he said. “One more snap and you’ll be free of the confines of that android body of yours and trapped in a human one.”

Data looked straight ahead at the man in front of him, tried to put on what he hoped was a brave face, and he nodded. He didn’t seem to have much choice anyhow.

“Proceed,” he said.

Q snapped his fingers once more, and suddenly, Data found himself on his knees. He had not expected how abrupt or how different it would all be. He could feel all the systems in his body change. He could feel the heart in his chest, the blood pumping through his whole body. He could feel his lungs filling and deflating with every breath. There was an emptiness and an aching in his stomach. His head was pounding, and there was an unfamiliar dull pain in his lower back.

“Q,” he said, lifting his head to face him.

Instead of Q and the empty, white nothing, he found himself in a golden field, the grass around him brown and dry, and beyond, a green forest. Above him, the sky was blue and scattered with wispy little clouds. The air was warm on his skin, and when he breathed it, no longer did he detect each individual microscopic and chemical component, but some amalgamation of it all that he could only guess to call a smell, but of what he was not yet certain.

Something told him, though he had not been here in quite a long time, that this was Earth.


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke the next morning on the floor of what appeared to be the lobby of some large building, just as the foot traffic was beginning to pick up. Through the cloudy feeling in his head, he remembered vaguely trudging through the field Q had deposited him in, up a hill, then down the other side, and on into a city. He had asked around to figure out where he could find a place to stay for the night, but he had no luck, and ended up wandering until he found this place, which he now remembered to be a shuttle station.

He stood, and as he did so, his spine made a series of popping noises. His body felt stiff and achy. He smiled as he placed a hand on his back and tried to rub away some of the pain like he had seen some humans do before. It was not as effective as he had been led to believe.

_This,_ he thought, _is what it feels like to be truly human._

He hoped he would not forget that.

“Can I help you, sir?” a voice asked.

He turned abruptly, almost knocking into its bearer. In front of him stood a woman in a gold and black Starfleet uniform. Something about her was dreadfully familiar, but he found himself unable to recall just where he had seen her before. His memory banks were gone, but he was sure it would come to him nevertheless.

Well, he hoped it would at any rate.

“Commander,” he said, noting the pips on her collar, “I was just about to leave. I apologize.”

Her eyes widened. “No. Um,” she said, blinking away her astonishment. Apparently she found him familiar as well. “I’m sorry. You just looked lost is all. Where are you headed?”

“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I do not know. I am still trying to find my way around.”

“New in town, then?” she asked, smiling politely.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she nodded. “Well, I just got here last month, so I’m pretty new, too, but maybe I can help you out. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for? Maybe I can point you in the right general direction.”

“Somewhere to stay,” he said. “Just temporarily.”

“Right,” she said slowly, looking out the glass wall to her right, where the exit was. “Well, there is a hotel a few blocks away, near the medical district.”

“Thank you, Commander,” he said, nodding before turning to leave.

He got a few steps before hearing, “Wait.”

“Yes?” he said.

“Do I know you?” she asked, her voice quiet and her expression softening, the professional facade falling away.

“I am not sure,” he said, feeling what must have been anxiety as his heart rate kicked up. “What is your name?”

“Jenna D’Sora,” she said.

And then he remembered. Jenna. Of course. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, and his heart nearly stopped.

“Uh,” he said, shaking his head, “I...I cannot recall...if I…”

“You look like someone I knew when I served on the _Enterprise_ ,” she said. “Well. Almost like him anyway. What’s your name?”

He hesitated, half-stuttering, but just managing to say, “Soong.”

“Soong, huh? Is that your first name?” she chuckled.

“No,” he said, remembering the name Q had told him to use. “Soong is my surname. You can call me Altan.”

“Altan Soong,” she said. “No, I don’t think we’ve met, but I might have met a...a _relative,_ of sorts.”

“Oh,” he said in anxious feign surprise, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Who would that be?”

“Do you know a Commander Data?” she said. “You look so much like him, it’s quite unnerving actually.”

“Commander?” he said with a chuckle. “Wow. That is…” He cut himself off. The false arrogance was distasteful, and his tone reminded him of someone he definitely did not wish to emulate. He sobered. “Yes, I knew Data.”

“Knew?”

“He...he died,” he said.

How strange it was to hear himself say that.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He nodded, uncertain of what to say.

“You said your name is Jenna D’Sora?” he asked after a moment, thinking to himself that perhaps he could say something to make her feel better, not only for the sadness caused by the news of his death, but for the sadness he had caused her so many years before but had been unable to recognize at the time.

“Yes.”

“Yes, now I remember. He mentioned you on a few occasions,” he said. A lie. He told no one of what transpired between them. “He was very fond of you.” The truth.

The corners of her mouth quirked up into a small smile, but her eyes remained sad. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“I am happy to have met you,” he said.

“Me too,” she said. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Perhaps,” he said, giving her a small smile.

* * *

An hour later, he stood in front of the large bathroom mirror in his single-bed hotel room in the medical district, studying his face. He looked even more like Dr. Soong than he had ever been aware of before. He had the same eyes, the same face, but with a few more lines than he remembered and a little more gray in his hair. It was surreal to look at this man and to realize that he was looking at himself. He leaned forward to get a better look, and thought briefly that maybe Q should have left the glasses. It was hard as hell to see anything as clearly as he used to.

“Like what you see?”

He jumped, and bumped his head on the mirror before spinning around to see Q draped across the bed in the main suite.

“I neither like nor dislike my appearance,” he said, but as soon as the words left his mouth, they felt somewhat untrue. Really, it was not a bad look.

“Commander D’Sora, your blast from the past. She seemed quite stricken by it,” Q smirked, sitting up.

“She was surprised. She has never met any of the members of my family, and she has not seen me in over a decade,” he said.

“Hm,” Q hummed. “I should discourage it. Might mess up the future I’ve sent you back to continue. But certain... _personal_ interests are overpowering Continuum law, and I think you should go for it.”

“Go for what?” Data asked, his brow furrowed, head tilted to the side.

“Talk to her,” Q said. “Take her out to dinner. Go to a concert. A show. Sleep with her. I don’t know. Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. A few more meetings shouldn’t alter too much.”

“I was not thinking of any of those things,” Data said, and felt, for some reason, embarrassed.

“Sure you were,” Q said, and sat up.

Q reached for the PADD on the bedside table which was equipped with information on local attractions, restaurants, businesses, and agencies. Within a few minutes, he had it playing a light, jazzy flute tune, and he smiled at Data, who seemed less than amused.

“What is it I _should_ be doing here, Q?” Data asked, coming to stand in front of the bed where Q was still lying.

“Now, I can’t just tell you what your reason for living is,” Q said. “That’s for you to figure out for yourself. And anyway, where’s the fun of knowing the end of the story before you even start it?”

Data frowned. He remembered Geordi making a similar point to him years before.

“What is it you would have wanted to do? If you hadn’t gotten into all that trouble with Shinzon and all those other dreadful people, what were your plans for the rest of the year?”

“I would have continued my commission with Starfleet,” Data said. “I am not certain what would have happened. That was one very enjoyable thing about my job.”

“Life goals, Data,” Q said, sitting up. “What did you want out of life? As an android? Or even...what were your plans for after you’d achieved humanity?”

“To continue to work for Starfleet,” Data said, and Q let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “And,” he went on, “I always wanted to have a family.”

“Ah,” Q said. “I suppose...well.”

“What?”

“You see, the body I gave you is based on Soong’s,” he said. “Well, the one you had was as well, but I just...copied over his genetic structure. Your anatomy and physiology are almost an exact replica of his.”

Data looked confused, his brow furrowed, and he cocked his head to the side. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said.

Q smiled. Then frowned. He was not supposed to smile. He cleared his throat.

“Noonien Soong was infertile,” Q said. “He couldn’t have children. Which might explain a few things.”

Data said nothing, but offered a confused sort of look, uncertain as to what Q could have been referring.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Q said more than asked.

“Couldn’t you alter that?”

“I suppose I could,” Q said.

“But you aren’t going to,” Data concluded.

“You can’t expect me to offer too many improvements to this already magnificent vessel I’ve given you, Data,” Q said. “I already fixed your eyesight. There are just some things you’re going to have to figure out on your own, the human way. You could see a doctor. That’s a very human thing to do.”

Q reached for the PADD once more and after a few clicks and a quick swipe, he sat forward and criss-crossed his legs in front of himself, looking down at it, reading something. Data went around the bed to the window to look out at the city. He had never been to Okinawa, though he had been given the opportunity to go on multiple occasions. The medical district, consisting of three separate hospitals and a few smaller buildings for primary care physicians, specialists, and pharmacies, was surprisingly quite serene, likely to provide a nice setting for ailing patients and their families. Beyond that, he could see the Daystrom Institute’s main building.

“Commander Maddox works at Daystrom,” Data said.

“Maddox?” Q said vacantly, obviously not listening.

“Commander Maddox is a...researcher,” Data said.

“What does he study?”

“Among other things, _me_.”

“Not anymore he doesn’t,” Q said, setting the PADD down, suddenly alert. “Don’t forget, you’re dead.”

“My life as an android has ended, you mean,” Data said.

“Is this your way of saying you’d like to make this change permanent?” Q asked, raising a hand, ready to snap his fingers and finalize the decision.

“I, uh, think I still need more time to decide,” Data said, his eyes wide.

“Uh-huh,” Q said, lowering his hand, and he went back to his reading. “So he’s a cybernetics specialist?”

“Yes,” Data said. “There was a time when he wanted to take me to a lab and disassemble me to further his research. There was a trial.”

“ _Reeeally_?” Q said, and made a few more swipes on the PADD in his hands.

“In the end, he was not allowed to,” Data said, slowly recognizing Q’s relative disinterest, and embarrassed, he slowed his speech to a stop, “to, uh, study me in that way.”

“So what’s he doing now?” Q asked.

“I assume he is still working for the Daystrom Institute,” Data said. “For several years after that, I maintained correspondence with him in order to give him information about my various functions, my daily activities, things of that nature. I am sure by now he has been informed of my...death.”

“The message was delivered this morning by Captain Picard himself over subspace,” Q said. “You wouldn’t believe how wide and how far, and how _quickly_ , the news of your destruction has spread.” He waved the PADD once, then went back to his swiping and clicking.

“Destruction,” Data murmured, sitting down on the edge of the window seat.

“Oh, yes, you’ll have to understand,” Q said. “Not everyone in the Federation viewed your existence the way that the crew of the _Enterprise_ did. I’m sorry, Data.”

His gaze met Data’s, and he made a genuine attempt to display his sympathy in that look, but Data only looked away. He sighed and tossed the PADD to the corner of the bed closest to Data.

“Lieutenant Commander Jenna D’Sora,” Q said. “She works as chief of security at the Daystrom Institute. You can read about her there. She’s quite accomplished. I think you’d be impressed.”

Data glanced down at the PADD, which displayed a picture of Jenna, and a long list of information. He shook his head.

“It’s not my business what she’s been up to,” he said, and paused for a moment, noting the way Q’s eyes seemed to light up when he spoke, but he was uncertain as to why. “I did not maintain close contact with her after we terminated our relationship, nor did I make any attempt to keep in touch with her after her transfer.”

“Okay,” Q said. “Just thought I’d show you.”

“Thank you, but I do not need the information.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“If I remember anything from my brief stint as a human, you’re going to be getting hungry soon,” Q said. In fact, Data had been hungry since the night before, but had made little effort to look for something to eat. He wasn’t even sure what to order, or how. “I hear tell the tempura is particularly good at Akira’s. That’s downtown.”

“Where did you hear that?” Data asked.

“I read it,” Q said, nodding in the direction of the PADD. “Rave reviews. You have to try it. Let me know what you think.”

Data’s brow furrowed. “In what way would my opinion on Japanese cuisine affect you?”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Q said, and immediately disappeared.

Data sighed and stood up, coming to stand beside the bed once more. The screen of the PADD was still lit up, and on it the picture of Jenna D’Sora in her Starfleet uniform. He picked it up, and promptly shut it off.

* * *

Akira’s was a nice little restaurant, admittedly, located downtown, just a transporter trip away from the hotel, but Data opted to walk instead, to help him get used to navigating this new body. Walking had never been a challenge for him before, so far as he could remember. But now, he found he had to work so much harder for it. Luckily, the more he did it, the easier it got. He was still a bit sore from having slept on the hard linoleum floor of that shuttle depot, but something told him that soreness would pass soon enough.

He stared up at the lighted menu panel behind the counter from the back of the line of other customers. Green letters flashed above in Japanese, but somehow he found himself able to read them. A universal translator, most likely.

“Mr. Soong. Fancy seeing you here.”

He turned, and saw behind him, Jenna, smiling politely.

_Q_. Of course. This was why he had suggested this location. He knew she would be here.

“Commander D’Sora,” he said.

“Jenna,” she said. “Please. I’m not on duty right now.”

He nodded. “Jenna.”

“What are you gonna get?” she asked.

“Um.” He looked up at the menu board again, then back to her. “A friend recommended the tempura. But I’m not sure.”

“The tempura is good,” she said. “I might just get that myself.”

“So, uh. When do you go back on duty?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked it. Something in him was telling him this was a bad idea, that he should not spend more time in her presence than he had to. But for some reason, it seemed Q wanted him to talk to her.

“I’ve got an hour off for lunch,” she said.

“Would you like to...have lunch together?” he asked.

She smiled. “That sounds nice.”

The line moved, and they shifted with it closer to the front.

“So, what are you doing in Okinawa, Mr. Soong?” she asked.

“Oh,” he said, hesitant, “I am just visiting.”

“How nice,” she said. “I know your brother Data knew a few people in town.”

“Really?” he asked. “Who?”

“Well, he was friends with a botanist and her husband who worked on the _Enterprise_ with us,” she explained. “Her family lives near here. The two of them are actually going to be in town for a few days.”

“The O’Briens,” he said.

“Mhm,” she hummed, glancing back up to the menu. “Do you know them?”

“I never met them,” he lied. “But Data spoke of them. Perhaps I should visit them.” Quickly, he added, “I mean, if they were his friends, it might be good for them to hear the news from me rather than over a subspace transmission.”

“I’m going to see them tomorrow evening,” she said. “At a get-together at Daystrom. It’s a, uh, well, it’s a Starfleet...thing. A dinner. I could tell them I saw you.”

“That is very kind. Thank you.”

After ordering their food, they sat together at a table under a window which looked out over a pristine traditional garden which was neatly kept and decorated with little figures, the religious and cultural significance of which he could no longer recall. There was so much he would have to relearn.

He looked down at his plate and pushed a bit of rice around with the chopsticks he had been given, unsure of how to pick it up.

“Soong,” she said after a brief silence.

“Hm?”

“Oh, no, sorry,” she chuckled. “The name.”

He managed to pick up some of the rice.

“Yes?” he asked.

“That sounds...Asian, of some sort,” she ventured, somewhat hesitant.

“Oh, yes, my father was of Chinese descent,” he said, and almost as though he timed it, lost his grip on the chopsticks, sending the rice falling back onto his plate. “Quite distantly.”

She laughed. “So where are you from?”

“I was born on Omicron Theta,” he said.

“Wow,” she said. “I was born here on Earth. Well. Not here. In America.”

There was another silence, in which Data managed to work out the proper way to hold his chopsticks, and to get a few bites of food into his mouth. It really was good. Q had not been wrong, though whether or not he actually read anything about the restaurant was still unknown.

He looked up, and noticed Jenna looking at him, her expression strange.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. She picked up some of the tempura. “No, you just look so much like him.”

“Data’s image was based on that of my father,” he said. “I suppose we would look very much alike.”

“It’s not just that, though,” she said. “So many of your mannerisms are so similar to his.”

He cocked his head to the side, then, realizing this, straightened up. “I was not aware,” he said. “I am sorry, if…”

“Don’t be,” she said, smiling some. “It’s...to be expected. Right?”

“His... _childhood_ , so to speak, coincided with my own,” he said. “I suppose there would be a few shared habits.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said with a smile. “He always learned a lot from watching and imitating others.”

“That is true,” he said, returning her smile. “I did as well.”

Some time went by, with the two of them talking amicably, her sharing her experiences as a newcomer to the town, him telling her his own experiences, and the two of them exchanging a few stories about Data, most of which he had to change certain facts about, or otherwise shift into an outside perspective via some fictionalized correspondence.

“It’s amazing,” she said, looking him over for what seemed like the thousandth time. “It’s like seeing a ghost. It’s almost like seeing him again, if it’s alright for me to say.”

“That’s alright,” he said quietly.

“I mean, I know you’re not him, obviously,” she said. “You’re different, but there are so many similarities. It’s a bit surreal.”

He nodded thoughtfully, supposing she was probably right. He probably was quite a strange sight.

“I’ll get used to it,” she said, and he looked at her, surprised.

He did not plan on staying around long enough for that. Perhaps he had been unclear, or she had misunderstood. He held back the urge to make that clarification.

“How was he, the last time you spoke to him?” she asked.

“He was…” he said, searching for the right word. “He was Data. You knew him. You probably know what I mean.”

“Well, good,” she said. “I’m glad. He was a good guy. I just...didn’t part on the best of terms with him.”

He raised his eyebrows, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything. He had not considered their terms bad. He understood her needs, and knew that the most logical decision was the one they had made.

“Well, he probably wouldn’t have thought so,” she said. “He seemed okay. But I...I felt really bad about it.”

“What…” he started to say, but stopped. “It is not my business.”

He took another bite of his food.

“No, it’s fine. It’s been years,” she said, seeming quite sincere. “Data and I were in a relationship. Sort of. Very briefly. I came on too strong, and I expected things of him which were somewhat unrealistic.”

“In what way?”

“Well,” she said. “I should have known that an emotional connection would have been difficult. Impossible, really. But he tried very hard. He made such an effort to be a good partner. I didn’t appreciate that enough. I was too caught up on how forced it seemed to me, and I was trying to make certain things happen faster than they ought to.”

He nodded. “I would not worry too much about that. Data was very fond of you, and I doubt that you hurt him terribly.”

“Thank you, Mr. Soong,” she said, her tone polite. “Really, it’s been years. You don’t have to try to make me feel better about that.”

“He was,” he said. “He spoke of you to me on several occasions. He kept the, uh, the decoration you gave him. The statue.”

She smiled. “Did he?”

“Yes. It was on a shelf in his bedroom.”

“He had a bedroom?” she asked, somewhat amused.

“Yes. In the last few years of his life, he had gotten into the habit of entering a sort of sleep cycle in order to induce a dreamlike state.”

“That’s very interesting,” she said. “I’m beginning to realize how little I actually knew about him.”

“Data was not always as straightforward as he seemed,” he said. “I was always learning new things about him.” He paused, looking at her, at the way she smiled as she listened to him. Then he continued: “But as I was saying, your time together really meant a lot to him.”

“I’m glad he didn’t harbor any animosity toward me for the way I treated him,” she said. “I was pretty harsh. He didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Data only ever had good things to say about you, and he understood that your decision was the best one for both of you.”

“Well,” she said, setting her chopsticks down on her empty plate. “I’m glad. But…” She slid her plate to the side of the table for it to be taken away when the server came back around, and she leaned back some in her seat, folding her hands in front of her. “I think that’s enough of that particular conversation. What is it you do, Mr. Soong?”

“I am a cyberneticist,” he said.

“Oh, I should have guessed,” she said. “Is that why you’re here?”

“A researcher who had a particular fascination with my brother Data works at the Daystrom Institute actually. I was hoping to meet him,” he said.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“Commander Bruce Maddox,” he told her.

“Oh!” she said, sitting forward again. “Commander Maddox will be at the dinner tomorrow night. Perhaps you should come then. You could come with me if you like.”

“You do not have to do that,” he said.

“Oh, no, I insist,” she said.

Data noticed something out the corner of his eye, and turned to look. Q was sitting at a nearby table, looking directly at him and nodding.

He sighed. “Alright,” he agreed, offering a polite smile, which she returned with a somewhat more enthusiastic one.

“Great,” she said. “I’ll send you the details. Where are you staying?”

“At the,” he said, looking again at Q, who was grinning much too wide for his own good. “Um. At the hotel you recommended, in the medical district.”

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll send you the details, and I’ll meet you tomorrow evening at the Institute. And I'll introduce you to Chief and Mrs. O’Brien, and Commander Maddox.”

“Wonderful. Thank you so much, Commander,” he said.

“Jenna,” she said, placing a hand on his arm.

He looked down at it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said. “Right now I’ve got to get back to work before they notice I’m four minutes late.”

“Okay,” he said, still looking at his arm where her hand had been. “See you tomorrow evening.”

“See you.”

“Good work, _Mr. Soong_ ,” Q said, sliding into the seat Jenna had just vacated. “See, I told you she was interested in you.”

“She is merely trying to help me get in contact with my dead brother’s friends,” he said.

“You keep telling yourself that, but I saw what I saw,” Q said. He took Data’s mostly untouched drink, stirred it with the straw which was sticking out of it, and took a sip. He made a face. “I don’t know how humans drink this.”

“It is water.”

“I know.”

“It has virtually no taste.”

“I know! So you agree.”

“No, I do not understand your—” He sighed. “Never mind.”

Q set the glass down. “I’m glad you’re taking to this human thing so quickly.”

“Th...thank you,” Data said, looking somewhat uncomfortable, taken aback, his brows furrowed and his eyes darting from Q to the table, his food, the server who was now approaching. He smiled at her politely when she took his plate, and she smiled back, and nodded before walking away, back behind the counter, and through the door into the kitchen. He let out a heavy breath. “Q, you have been human.”

“Yes, an experience I’d rather not relive,” he said.

“Does it get easier?”

“I was only human for twenty-four hours,” he said. “I don’t think I’m an expert. But billions upon billions of people do it every day, so I’m sure it must.”

He looked to his left, and Data followed his gaze to see a man mopping up a spilled drink with a soggy cloth napkin.

“Though by some accounts, it’s a little less certain, I’d say,” Q went on.

Data looked at him, a mix of concern and annoyance in his expression.

“No worries. You’re a quick learner, and you had a couple decades’ practice.”

He picked up a napkin, wiped his seemingly clean hands on them, and dropped it onto the table. In the same instant, Q’s dry napkin replaced the soaked one the man was using, and Q stood up, blocking Data’s view of him just as he stared down at it in shock.

“Now,” Q said. “Let’s go for a walk, and we can talk about this date of yours.”


End file.
